


Blowing Off Steam

by CuriosityRedux



Series: Dragon Drabbles Berk [63]
Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Hiccstrid - Freeform, NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 05:00:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16758418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuriosityRedux/pseuds/CuriosityRedux
Summary: Astrid and Hiccup resolve an argument.





	Blowing Off Steam

**Blowing Off Steam**

**-**

“It’s just a matter of courtesy, Hiccup!” Astrid slammed her axe into its hanging place on the wall, almost dislodging one of the nails in the process. “We’re married now!”

“Oh yeah, forgot about that,” the chief growled to himself, trying not to close the door to their home with too much force. Shrugging out of his furs, he hung the heavy cloak on its hook. “I’ve said I’m sorry probably a hundred times. I didn’t think you’d object!.”

The blonde made a noise of frustration and whirled on her husband. “I _don’t_ object,” she hissed, holding her hands out in front of as if he could see her meaning scribbled across her palms. “I get that you need to help the Burglars set up a training academy. I get it! I’m just saying you should have _asked_ me first!”

“Yeah, I heard you loud and clear, when you nagged me about it in front of _the entire council_.” He made a large gesture in the general direction of the Great Hall, holding his arms out wide. “ _Thank_ you for that, once again. As if I _needed_ them to give them another reason to scowl and mutter about how I’m not my father!”

“Well, it’s not just your business when you pick up and decide to sail for the Bogs, Hiccup!” Astrid kicked off her boots and swiped them to the side with her foot. One smacked the wall with a thump. Her shoulder pads clanked loudly as she unbuckled them, letting them clatter to the table. “Who runs this place when you’re not around? _Me_. And I didn’t think it was asking that much for you to check with me first!”

The young chief glared at his wife’s back as she stalked up the stairs. Irritation thrumming hotly through his chest, he followed her to their room. “But you couldn’t have waited until we got home to talk about it? You had to make your point _right then_?”

“It was _important_ ,” she snarled, tearing her braids down and untying them with quick, jerky movements. Every pin she pulled from her thick blonde waves, she’d smack against her side-table. “When did me speaking my mind become some embarrassment for the great chief of Berk, anyways? Every time I try and talk, lately, you cut me off!”

“I do not!” He yanked his shirts over his head. Throwing them over the back of his desk chair, he reached for the long-sleeved shirt he used for working in the forge. Hiccup began gathering papers and notes from his usual mess, his jaw clenched. 

“You do!” She was trying at her skirt now, her fingers working at the laces he’d helped tie that morning. “You did tonight, and you did last week when I was trying to say something about the trade contracts!” Watching with folded arms, he narrowed his gaze at the knot her hands were struggling with. “It’s like– because you’re chief, you don’t have to listen to me or ask me about stuff anymore? My opinion doesn’t matter?”

“When did I _ever_ say that?" 

"Your _behavior_ said it!” Her face was a beautiful vision of fury, her color high and her bangs falling in her eyes, which were trying to look behind her. She bit out a curse at the waistband of her skirt and tugged at the strings holding it tight. 

Hiccup sighed with exasperation. Crossing the room in four large steps, he reached to help her, but she reacted like a feral cat, snatching his hands away and pushing him back. 

“Don't _touch me_!”

He frowned. Then he tried again. This time he wasn’t put off by her smacking, yanking her close by a handful of her shirt and holding her in place. Though she cussed and protested, he ignored her clawed attempts at pulling away and snatched the knot undone. Then he shoved the skirt down, letting it land heavily at her feet. 

Astrid tried to spin around, infuriated, but his patience had run thin. He took her by the arms and pressed her against the bedroom wall, his chest to her back.

“Calm down,” he commanded, his lips at her ear. His wife twisted and tried to buck him off, but gone were the days when she had all the physical prowess. Her lithe, half clothed body was pressed between the wall and her husband’s hard planes. “ _Calm. Down._ ”

She made a hissing noise, trying to dig her heel into Hiccup’s boot. Just like a dragon, he knew she hated being backed into a corner. “Let me go!”

“Not until you relax,” he snapped back. She was warm, despite the cold chill outside, and the sensations caused by her squirming were causing some very inconveniently timed bodily responses. It only pressed is aggravation further. 

Her breath was labored and quick, her loose hair smelling of soap. Not all at once, but slowly, she stopped struggling. They stood there for a long moment, his hands around her wrists and his hips digging into her lower back.He could tell the exact moment when she discovered his body’s betrayal, because she brushed back against him just so. Then she went still. 

Hiccup stepped back, letting her go with a little more roughness than absolutely necessary. The minute she was free, Astrid whirled to face him. But instead of hitting him, like he almost expected her to, she dragged his face down by his hair and crushed her mouth against his. 

He didn’t have the patience to question it. Stepping forward so she was pinned again, he tangled his fingers in her curls and accepted the kiss that was more teeth than lips. Her breath was hot on his jaw as she swiped her tongue out to taste his and nipped lightly at his chin. She worked him into a conflicted state of brimming ire and simmering arousal. Forcing a knee between hers, he pressed her thighs apart so that he could grind the evidence of his frustration against her. His wife’s answering moan was shuddering and low.

They were caught in a battle of wills, a fight for dominance. Despite her size, Astrid was a flurry of hard, unyielding kisses and nails digging into his his back. He’d tear her hands away and pin them above her head, just for her to jerk them free moments later. For every lick or suckling at his neck, he received the sharp bite of her teeth too. With a snarl, he reached for her hips and pulled down her leggings and underwear in one gruff movement. Then she was hitching her leg around his waist, and he wasted no time in adjusting his pants to free his erection. 

They both made hoarse groans of pleasure when he sheathed himself inside her. The stress and aggravation of the evening’s meeting was compacting into a single tight and humming thread, and a seething heat settled low in the pit of his stomach. Astrid’s mouth was latched wetly against his neck, nibbling and sucking and surely leaving one of the marks she littered his body with when she felt like claiming him. He gasped at the combination of her attentions and the feeling of her hot muscles clenched around him. 

Except for the harsh sounds of their traded mutterings and his hips sinking against hers, the room was quiet. He could hear her desperate panting, feel her heart thrumming quickly against his own chest. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he drew his wife tightly against him. 

Everything was hot and urgent and dripping with impatience. His hands groped at the curves pressed beneath him, still hidden beneath her shirt and breast bindings. She clawed at his hips, demanding more, harder, faster. The eye contact they shared burned with intensity and frustration, narrowed glowers and heated glares. 

Until he thrust against a particular spot and groaned a pledge of affection against her temple. She softened immediately, in a subtle way. Her scratching nails turned into kneading fingers. Her feral hisses gave way to breathy moans, rising in pitch. The ferocity with which she held him didn’t wane, but it allowed for the tender touches of a wife and the warm glances of a lover. It was what he needed, and he felt the hot coil of desire in his stomach twisting tighter and tighter. 

His hand dove between them, finding the pearl that would earn him her orgasm before he lost self control to his. Wetting his lips, he worked and teased her slick nub in all the ways he’d learned from evenings of quivering thighs and stolen moments of stifled gasps. It had the effect he desired. Her writhing became insistent and her walls grew tight. She whispered his name against his throat before arching against him with hard, shivering spasms. The string of tension inside him suddenly snapped, and he could hardly allow her to finish her own climax before he spilled inside her. 

In the silent, panting aftermath of their agitated lovemaking, Hiccup lowered his forehead against hers. They trembled and waited for their pulses to settle, exchanging quiet apologies between gentle kisses. Her fingers were feathers brushing beneath the hem of his shirt. He cupped her cheek in his palm. 

And for the moment, it seemed, the argument was over.


End file.
